Last Name: Oathkeeper
Appearance: An old and worn dwarf, with a long gray beard. His teeth are nearly rotted and are usually stained from a black root that he chews (which also causes him to spit quite a bit).
Race: Shield Dwarf
Age: Old
Height A bit below Average
Weight: Lean, but not skinny
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Gray
Facial Hair Style: A disheveled beard, grown long at the chin
Personality Profile:
Crotchety. Gruff. ‘Grumble-y’. Fairly xenophobic, he believes ‘tha longshanks’ are generally lazy, and bear responsibility for many of the world’s ills. Quick to speak his mind in most cases, and his opinions generally are not well-received.
General Health: Healthy, though if he has spent a long period away from civilization (as he prefers) he may have temporary hygiene issues.
Deity: Dumathoin, not particularly religious though he pays homage to all of the Dwarven Gods.
Initial Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (To most outsiders. Closer to LN toward fellow ‘stouts’)
Profession: Tunnel Rat, Wayfinder, Pest Killer, Guide.
Base Class & Proposed Development: Rogue-Fighter-Tempest
Habits/Hobbies: He chews a black root (envisioned as if chewing tobacco), and loves to drink the ‘holy water’ (Alcohol).
Languages: Dwarvem
Weapon of Choice: Hand Axe
Background: Baoldrim is a descendant of Clan Belroun of fallen (during this time period) Citadel Felbarr, one of the last and loyalist of clans that stayed until 1054DR when Felbarr was no more:
His family, upon ‘The Departure’ took the name of Oathkeeper, and made a sworn oath then that one day its descendants would take part in the retaking of the old citadel. They settled later in Sundabar, and while some members of his clan became skilled crafters under the tutelage of the Dwarves that had harnessed the Everfire (volcanic rift), others joined the deepscouts that helped protect their new home. Baoldrim himself was born and raised with these stories pressed upon him, and feels the full weight of his clan’s oath to retake the citadel.Since the year -1900 DR, the year of when it was completed, Citadel Felbarr stood as one of the grand jewels of mighty dwarf empire of Delzoun. However when the clans of fellow underground shield dwarf empire Ammarindar immigrated to Myth Drannor at the fall of their kingdom to demons. Most of the clans of already weakening citadel, it's mined out ore veins and Delzoun empire joined this retreat at 273 DR, leaving Felbarr to crumble and vulnerable to raiding monsters and orcs. Few clans loyally stayed behind and stood proudly against the constant orc attacks and sieges. One of these clans was Clan Belroun. Long did they hold fast in their mountain fortress with other clans, ever bitter of most clans decision of leave to Cormanathor woods. To them it was not an option to leave their beloved and proud home behind. But the ore veins kept running thin and more dwarves were killed by hostiles behind the protecting and proud Runegate.
Most of the clans were leaving or had done so years ago, until the time when Clan Belroun was alone. When its elders deceased and more and more warriors fell, it came a time for the loyal dwarves to make the bitter decision. Either stay and defend the fortress to their end or leave as others had done. Bitter looks on all faces and sad song were sang that day when they packed everything they could carry with them at the day of abandoning. The Runegate was sealed and what remain behind now laid in the dark for anyone fast enough to take. In 1054 DR the already shattered clan spread across the north, some taking refuge in the north inside the mighty halls of Adbar, some to Ironmaster, some made their way to Spine of the World, and some spread in cities and communities all around the Siver Marches and the North. Most of the dispersed took new clan names as they parted. To this day only memory of the clan’s glory remains, and stories survive in the long and loyal minds of its members. Where ever all of them are now they still remember their lineage. Its members are proud to call themselves the clan that stood last to the end of what now is the Citadel of Many-Arrows, bastion of orc-kind. Only a few of them live today and still remembers that bitter time. Rest assured however, that the offspring of this clan knows of their legacy. Delzoun ultimately fell, but the dwarves didn't.
In his younger years, Baoldrim trained to become one of the elite deepscouts himself, bu due to a string of brawls with ‘the longshanks’ in the upper city of Sundabar (and a particular nasty one where he threw acid in the face of a human guard) he was seen as too much of a hot-head for disciplined martial duties. He was kicked out before his final induction into the ranks. From there he was assigned to an iron-working guild, a job that he detested. After a decade of clanking metal and barked orders he grew tired of the monotony, and left his home to seek battle and his own fortune. Until recently this journey consisted of a lot of bar room brawls and being lost in mug after mug of strong ale.. though with new found companions he is seeing more of the Sword Coast.
The pressure of his legacy, and the growing realization that he will not see the retaking of Felbarr in his life, has led him to be somewhat bitter and drives his less savory habits.
Goals: Very few to speak of.. another mug, another chaw, and if he is lucky an excuse to unleash his bitter aggression on the world. He has hired himself out as a guide, tunnel rat, and pest killer for coin and is motivated by his love of battle and finding lost dwarven relics/mines. His life, at this point, is more focused on his day to day misery than any long-term goals.
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts: Baoldrim has nearly given up on his dreams of glory and honor, and instead drinks back the wretched misery that fills his heart. His path is not final, and he still finds enjoyment in exploration of new subterranean complexes and the extermination of the lesser races (goblinoids, etc) within. A day spent in battle with fellow stouts is a day worth living.